The Murder of Harriet Krohn (27 page)

“You don’t like that? Having your thoughts disturbed?”

“No, it makes me bad-tempered. I’m rather childish that way.”

“So the Toyota that crashed into you disturbed your thoughts?”

“Yes. I was concentrating deeply just then, on other things.”

“Tell me.”

“The day had been long and hard. At last I was going home. To my chair and my bed. In my mind I was already at home; I was longing to be there. So I wasn’t paying attention.”

He lights his cigarette and inhales.

“Because the evening had been an ordeal?”

“Yes. It was an ordeal. I felt as if I was clinging to the edge of a cliff with only a void beneath me. I couldn’t see any future, only darkness and despair.”

“Wasn’t there anyone you could phone?”

“No. I’ve only got Julie. And she has to be spared at all costs. She mustn’t get mixed up in my problems.”

“You think you can prevent that? They grow up, you know. And they understand a great deal.”

“Yes, yes. You’re right of course. And she certainly is a smart cookie. But I can’t bear the thought of her being worried about me. Children shouldn’t worry about adults.”

“But she isn’t a child. She’s almost seventeen. What do you think she’ll be doing now? She doesn’t know where you are. She’s sitting alone with her thoughts. Waiting. Looking at the clock. Her imagination running riot.”

“Well, I’ll explain to her. I’ll explain,” he says again, and takes a pull at his roll-up. Determination written on his face.

“So, you’ve got an explanation?”

“Of course.”

“Is it a good one?”

“I think so.”

Sejer heads for a bench. He lowers himself onto it and Charlo follows his example.

“Will I think it’s good?” Sejer’s eyes settle on him.

“I don’t know. Don’t think so.”

“Don’t underestimate me.”

“No. But you’ve never been in my shoes.”

“I’ve had plenty of problems of my own.”

They fall quiet and raise their faces to the sun.

“You don’t look like a harassed man,” Charlo says after the silence. “You’re doing well. A good job and a nice office. Responsibility. Authority. I’ve got none of those. I’ve never had them.”

“Did you want them?”

“Naturally. But I got completely sucked into gambling. It ruined things for me. For my family.”

“Yes, we become obsessed by things, affected by things. But there is always a choice.”

“I’ve never felt that. I’ve always felt driven.”

“Driven to gambling addiction and embezzlement?”

“Yes. You talk like all the rest of them. The ones that say you can just choose and stop doing all those destructive things. It points to a lack of imagination and knowledge of what a human being is.”

“And what is a human being?”

Charlo shuts his eyes. “There are probably as many answers as there are human beings. And I hate all that guff about free will.”

“Because you feel you haven’t got it. But many people would maintain that they do have it. You’re envious, and so you dismiss the term.”

“You’re very psychological.”

“It’s part of my job. But really, I’m genuinely curious about all types of people.”

“I’m not particularly interesting.”

“You must let others be the judges of that. You can’t know how others perceive you.”

Suddenly Frank comes bouncing up with something in his mouth.

“Well, my goodness,” Sejer says bending down. “This rascal’s found a bone!”

“It looks rotten,” Charlo says.

“It doesn’t matter. Look how proud he is.”

“Yes, their lives are simple.”

“And yours is more complicated?”

“As things stand,” Charlo says, “the rest of my life is a blur. I can’t make anything out clearly.”

“That sounds a bit dramatic.”

“Yes. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Feel free to tell me. I’m sitting here.”

“I’m just trying to retain a little dignity.”

“I’ve no plans to rob you of it. It wouldn’t be in my interest. Dignity is an important thing.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had much.”

“Now you really do sound pessimistic. You’ve paid your debts, got yourself a job, et cetera. Made it up to Julie.”

“Yes, but it’ll be a long road. And I may not even be able to walk.”

“What’s this you’re saying?”

“Nothing.”

Sejer falls silent again, reaches down, and steals the dog’s bone. He growls at once and begins scratching at his trouser leg. They sit there for twenty minutes. Charlo drinks in the sun’s warmth. Now and again he moves his legs carefully to feel that they’re there. They seem healthy; he can twiddle his foot. At the moment.

Sejer asks questions.

Always in that calm tone. There’s nothing threatening about him. Charlo answers. He’s always got to think first. Gradually a weariness settles over his mind, a lack of awareness of what he’s already said. A degree of confusion. He becomes nervous. He feels an overpowering urge to tell all, to move on. To lie down on a bed, close his eyes, and empty his head. No, says a voice inside him. Keep quiet!

“What were you thinking about as you sat in your car behind the hotel?”

“I’m not sure. I was thinking about everything and nothing. My thoughts were all over the place. I wasn’t concentrating. That’s probably why I crashed. Normally I’d have realized that the Toyota wasn’t going to stop.”

“But things weren’t normal?”

“I was in a tight corner. And the collision jarred me out of my reverie. I’m actually very sorry about it. Sometimes I think I should try to get a hold of him to explain and apologize. He was very upset when I began shouting and swearing. I mean, I’m usually polite. My parents were very hot on that. They taught me to behave properly, and I do.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“When I was young and dating Inga Lill, I did everything by the book. I had a job and a house. Plenty to offer. It’s funny to think of that now.”

“But then you lost it all? Tell me how it all started.”

“It was like being caught in an undertow. The gambling. The wins. The losses were merely a necessary part of it; each win made up for everything. Have you ever tried it?”

“No, I never gamble. No pools, no lottery. I don’t play board games, either. I’ve got a grandson, and I’ve looked after him all through his childhood. I’ve read to him, taken him to the cinema, played football, run through the forest with him, taken him on trips. But I’ve never played a game with him.”

“Why not?”

“I’m scared he might win.”

Charlo looks at him across the desk.

“So, in fact, you’re scared as well. You haven’t left any case unsolved in your entire police career.”

“So you read that article?”

“Julie found it in the paper.”

“Does it make you nervous?”

“No. I’m impressed, of course. But that record will be broken sometime. Perhaps it will be broken this year. Because you can’t find the Hamsund murderer.”

“I haven’t given up hope. I’m tenacious.”

“Certainly. But perhaps he is, too. Have you considered that?”

“Frequently.”

Once more, Charlo glances over at Frank.

“You really have trained that dog well. Even though he’s still a puppy. How did you manage it?”

“It’s a mystery to me as well. But Frank does what I tell him. It’s a gift that’s fallen into my lap. I deserve no credit for it. What about you and horses? Have you got a good rapport with them?”

“Yes, I find it as easy as pie. I just react to them naturally. It’s a matter of reading them. They send out a mass of signals that have to be read.”

“But how did you learn to do it?”

“It’s just a natural talent, I think. Nothing I deserve any credit for.”

Sejer clasps his hands behind his head and stretches in his chair.

“But you deserve credit for something, surely?”

“I really don’t know what for. Well, yes, I do work hard for Møller. And I look after Julie. That’s good, if a little belated, if you know what I mean.”

“Has she got any other adults she can turn to?”

“No, only friends her own age. Why d’you ask?”

“I just wondered. You said that the rest of your life is a blur. Perhaps it’s a good thing she’s almost grown up?”

“It is good.”

“Let’s return to Fredboesgate.”

“I don’t particularly want to.”

“I understand that, Mr. Torp. But we must.”

“I’m not going to go back to it at all. I find it obnoxious. I think I’ve said enough.”

“Did something happen there that you don’t want to talk about?”

“I think I’ve said what there is to say. I’m sorry, but I’ve nothing more to give.”

“Not even a few small details?”

“Especially not details.”

“D’you find them unpleasant?”

“I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t have a lawyer.”

Sejer nods. “It’s up to you. Do you need one?”

“No, I haven’t done anything.”

“In that case, you can tell it just the way it was. You bought a bunch of flowers to gain access to Harriet Krohn’s kitchen. They were on her kitchen counter, Mr. Torp. A lily, roses, and anemones.”

“Yes, I remember the bouquet, but they were for Julie.”

“Describe the bouquet you bought.”

“For Christ’s sake. There were several sorts of flowers. I don’t know the names of any of them.”

“But you said you remembered it. Maybe you remember the colors?”

“Well, there was some pink and blue. I didn’t ask for anything in particular. I just asked her to make up a mixed bouquet.”

“And it ended up in a garbage can where?”

“Possibly it was at the Shell service station at the top of Oscarsgate. I stopped there after I’d been to Julie’s.”

“Why?”

“Er, I went into the shop.”

“Yet another visit you’ve forgotten. You said you didn’t go in anywhere.”

“Yes, but I’m starting to get tired. It’s hardly surprising I’m getting muddled.”

“Absolutely, I quite see that. It’s why I’m continuing to ask questions. Because it’s my belief that, sooner or later, we’ll get to the important matters.”

“And what are those?”

“The murder of Harriet Krohn. Answer me this, Mr. Torp: what kind of weapon did you have with you?”

“I didn’t have any weapon.”

“A baseball bat?”

“No.”

“A hammer, perhaps?”

“Didn’t you hear? I said no. I didn’t have any weapon!”

“Just flowers?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Now I’m getting confused. Can’t you go a bit more slowly?”

“I’m sorry.”

Sejer leans back defensively.

“So, you walked to Miss Krohn’s house, armed only with flowers?”

Charlo keeps silent. What was it he just admitted?

“No, I didn’t go to Miss Krohn’s house.”

Sejer leans forward once more.

“Come on, Mr. Torp. Don’t start going up a blind alley again, or we’re never going to get anywhere.”

“And where are we supposed to get to?”

“To the truth. We’re going to get to the truth.”

“And what is the truth according to you? That I killed Harriet Krohn?”

“You’re the one with the answers here. The explanations. I’m not going to second-guess. But I can be plain and ask you directly. Did you kill Harriet Krohn?”

“No.”

“She was alive when you left the house—is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

He puts his hands to his head. Expels the air from his lungs, tries to twist away. “She was lying on the floor. In the kitchen.”

He hunches in his chair and hides his face in his hands. He’s fallen over the precipice.

“Why?”

“I gave her a little push.”

He looks up at Sejer again, wishing to save what he can.

“That’s how you’d describe it? A push?”

“Yes. But she was quite thin and fragile, and she may have struck the kitchen unit as she fell. She may have passed out.”

“And you left her there, lying by the kitchen unit?”

“Yes. I got panicky, you know. I thought perhaps she’d injured herself.”

“You can do better than that, Mr. Torp. There was a great deal of blood in the kitchen. You knew for a fact she was injured. And you panicked?”

“Yes.”

“But not enough to leave the silver behind. Did you find some cash, too?”

Charlo grimaces. “Yes, I found a few kroner in her bedroom.”

He looks past Sejer and out of the window, at the clouds.

“Can you be a little more exact about the amount?”

“Well, several thousand-krone notes.”

Sejer nods to himself.

“So there was no lottery win?”

“No, I just made it up.”

“Why did you push her?”

“Because she went mad when I opened her sideboard. She attacked me from behind and began screaming and scratching. I became desperate; I admit it. You see, I get like that sometimes. I couldn’t understand why she was getting so worked up about her silver.”

“So you pushed her hard?”

“Not especially hard. She came at me again and carried on. I remember thinking how greedy she was for that silver, as if it was the most precious thing she had. She could have let me take it without a fuss, and she’d have fared better.”

“She’s dead, Mr. Torp. She was killed.”

“Well, I just can’t understand that because, as I said, I only gave her a push. She ran into the kitchen, and I ran after her and pushed her again. And of course it was just my luck that her forehead hit the edge of the metal draining board, but that was what happened. And I don’t regard it as murder; I mean, it was an accident. Not something I’d planned in advance.”

Sejer makes notes and says nothing. Charlo’s mouth is dry, but his glass is empty. He waits, his mind in turmoil.

“Mr. Torp,” Sejer says slowly. “You’ve come a long way, and I’m grateful for that. But you’re leaving out certain important facts. Your explanation isn’t quite full enough.”

“It happened just the way I said. I was only interested in her silver. I got agitated and gave her a shove.”

“But we’ve examined the victim carefully. And her injuries don’t concur with your account. In other words, we’ve got a problem. I must ask you to go into more detail.”

“I’ve already said that I don’t like going into details. I think I’ve given you a lot now. I’ve bent over backward.”